


Stay With me (I'm Sticking With You)

by bluflamingo



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: satedan_grabass, Earth, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series, Queer Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 09:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluflamingo/pseuds/bluflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back on Earth, John and Ronon talk about what's next, for them and for Atlantis</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay With me (I'm Sticking With You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelus2hot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelus2hot/gifts).



"So – now what happens?"

John tipped himself back onto the ridiculously huge hotel bed and glared up at the ceiling. The plain, boring whiteness of it was far more disorienting than it should have been, given that he'd spent a good chunk of his life looking up at pretty much identical ceilings. 

He turned his head just enough to look at Ronon instead. He was wearing his standard Earth clothes of jeans and black shirt, no sign of the injury John knew was still healing. Ronon shifted slightly, probably feeling John's eyes on him, even though he was staring down at the lights of San Francisco.

"I guess it's up to the IOA now to decide what happens to Atlantis," John said quietly. "Or the SGC. Woolsey's meeting with Landry tomorrow."

Ronon shrugged his left shoulder, still not turning around. Looking at Ronon in a hotel room might actually be more disorienting than looking at a ceiling that wasn't his or Ronon's in Atlantis. It was a nice enough hotel room – the SGC had shoved most of Atlantis' crew into hotel rooms, or at least those who hadn't taken advantage of the unexpected leave on Earth to visit family and friends. The kind of place he'd landed on more than one leave period when he was still regular Air Force, not fancy but high enough up that the window looked out onto the sky. 

John reminded himself firmly that this wasn't like that – Rodney and Jennifer were on one side of his room, Teyla on the other, Ronon's empty room next to hers. He had a list, somewhere, of the other Atlanteans in the hotel, could find Lorne or Banks or even Woolsey as easily as he could have in the city.

Somehow, none of that mattered as much when he could turn his head and see Ronon still standing, still alive.

"What about me and Teyla?" Ronon turned just enough to look at John. 

John pushed himself upright, giving himself a moment to come up with something to say. Nothing brilliant offered itself. "What do you want to happen?"

"Teyla's got Torren and the Athosians. She'll go back."

Silence stretched out between them, but Ronon didn't look away.

"What about you?" 

Ronon smiled, the one John hated because it didn't mean anything good or funny or happy. "Atlantis is my home."

John was well aware that he was worse than hopeless when it came to putting anything into words, but he'd never quite realized how aggravating it was from the other side. Apparently, there were still some new experiences for him and Ronon to share. "If Atlantis – if we can't go back..."

Ronon turned back to the window, then pushed himself away and crossed the room to sit next to John. The mattress dipped slightly, so the two of them were close enough for John to feel Ronon's warmth against his arm. He forced his left hand to stay on his knee, rather than touching the spot on his chest that still bore the faint remains of his Wraith feeding scar. Ronon's would be starker, until someone from medical could treat it.

"You know why I stayed in Atlantis?" Ronon asked.

John had plenty of guesses, from the team to having a way to go after the Wraith to his friendships with Lorne and Cadman, and later Jennifer and Banks. Ronon's serious expression implied he probably wasn't going to say any of those things.

"You would've shot me," Ronon said, voice quiet in the dim light of the room. "Right at the beginning. I knew you would. I trusted you."

"I really didn't want to," John said, instead of _I'm really glad I didn't have to._ or _I trusted you too._

"If I could trust you not to shoot me – You and Teyla were the only people I could trust back then."

"Not now?" John asked, even though he knew the answer. Some days, it felt like Ronon was a different person now from before. Hell, some days, John felt like _he_ was a different person.

"Not now." Ronon nudged his shoulder against John's. "Still sticking with you though."

"Even if we can't go home?"

Ronon didn't correct him this time, just said, "Yeah. Even then."

*

Somewhere in the back of his mind, John knew that Ronon was the one who should be waking up shouting, but in the moment, it didn't matter. Nothing did, because he was in a strange place, in the dark, and Teyla had shaken her head, said she was sorry, that Ronon was –

"John." A hand brushed against John's arm and he started away, catching himself right before he fell off the bed. "Calm down."

John gasped for breath, reaching for the wall that should have been next to his bed and wasn't. The click of a switch and the following flair of low light startled him almost as badly as the hand on his arm, even as his brain caught up with the world and reminded him that Wraith cells didn't come with electric light.

Or with Ronon, hair tangled and T-shirt askew, leaning away from John, hands up in textbook non-threatening position.

Hotel room, Earth. Ronon wasn't dead.

"Crap," John breathed out, dropping his head. He'd backed himself up against the foot of the bed and was glad for it, for something to lean against while the nightmare still swirled too close, right there if he let his eyes close. "Sorry."

He heard rather than saw Ronon shrug. "Happens."

John shook his head. He didn't get nightmares, never had. Flashbacks, sometimes, whispers of memory when he was exhausted, more vivid when he was drugged, but not nightmares. Apparently, his subconscious saved everything up for when he got hit with some kind of reality distorter instead, which he hadn't needed to know but had had firmly reinforced since coming to Pegasus.

Going to Pegasus. Still on Earth.

"They said you were dead," he said, still too caught in the dream to keep himself from saying it.

"I got better." Ronon's voice had just enough laugh in it for John to look up and see the mix of concern and amusement on Ronon's face. "That happens too."

"We could start a club." John took a deep breath and found it was easier than he'd expected. _Just a dream._ Ronon was right there, in their bed, watching John, alive. Always alive, even after four years of the worst Pegasus could throw at them. "Get Larrin to join in."

Ronon laughed, low and soft, and held a hand out to John. "Come back to bed."

"I'm in bed."

"You're on the bed." Ronon straightened the covers, absurdly domestic in the guy who regularly saved John's life, and held up a corner. "I'm getting cold."

John remembered that – how, after Todd gave his life back, he hadn't been able to stop shivering for days, unable to get warm no matter how many layers and blankets he wrapped himself in. He rolled himself under the covers, waited for Ronon to turn out the light, and then curled up behind him, pressing close and wrapping one arm around Ronon's waist.

He felt Ronon's sigh against his chest, followed by Ronon's body going limp against his. "Don't die on me."

"Stuck with me," Ronon said, sounding halfway back to sleep already. "Long as we're both around."

"Yeah," John said quietly. He could live with that.


End file.
